Skyrim on Crack A Delicious Evil
by EDGE-HANGER
Summary: In the first cracktastic chapter, the Jarls of Skyrim assemble to discuss the biggest horror to threaten the universe since Ulfric started wearing butt-less leather chaps!


Skyrim On Crack

[scene sets as viking men (and a woman I guess) in furry coats sit solemnly around a dimly lit table]

Jarl of Whiterun: Welcome, elders of Skyrim.

I welcome you all to Dragonreach, in the humble palace I call home.

Jarl of Winterhold: You call this shit a castle? My palace has Khajit fur carpeting and a giant bong made of hollowed mammoth bone.

Redguard Embassador: YO DAWG DAT AIN'T RIGHT.

Jarl of Riften: YOU PSYCHOPATHIC ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING KILL KHAJIT FOR CARPETING?

Jarl of Winterhold: I like it when you get mad, Laila.

Jarl of Riften: Once this fucking meeting is over I am literally going to take this fucking Battle Ax, cut off your testicles, and shove them down your own fucking throat, force you to you swallow your own tiny mansacks, wait until you digest them fully, and force you to shit them out.

Winterhold: Rwar. Baby. Talk a little bit dirtier to me. Lay down the law. Awwww yeah. You wear that fucking pointy helmet. You wear that pointy fucking helmet. Aww year. You dragon blooded Norse babe-i-licous hotty-

Jarl of Whiterun: Korir, stop masturbating under the table, we can all fucking see it and it's beyond gross you insufferable man whore. Jesus fucking talos whatever mythical religion we believe in, this sort of shit got you banned from these meetings in the first place.

Winterhold: But dude you can't blame me she's so fucking hot-

Whiterun: Shut the fuck up. We haven't even talked about the fate of the universe yet.

I call upon you today with the upmost concern for not only the future of Skyrim, but the future of the universe. A new threat looms on the horizon, a spherical, delicious threat that looms on the fringes of society-

Solitude: What do you mean, delicious?

Winterhold: How can something be delicious and dangerous at the same time?

Riften: I don't get it. It's not possible for something to be delicious and deadly-

Falkreath: ALL I DO IS SIT ON MY ASS AND TWADDLE MY DICK-

Redguard Embassador: YO DAWG DAT AIN'T RIGHT-

[At this exact moment, a viking clad in a rainbow bearskin jacket and a sparkling battle ax holstered to his belt bursts through the doors, skips violently down the stairs, and jumps, floating gently into his seat]

Ulfric Stormcloak: HELLOOOOO EVERBODY!

[everybody else, sighing] Hello Ulfric.

DID ONE OF YOU BITCHES SAY 'DELICIOUS?'

[everybody else] Yes we did, Ulfric.

Ulfric: WHY SO SAD? YOU BITCHES BETTER TURN YOUR FROWNS UPSIDE DOWN BEFORE I PUT MY DICK IN YOU FAT LIPS, HEHEHEHE!

[everyone else] Wait what the fuck did you say? Your gunna put your dicks in our lips?

Redguard Embassador: YO DAWG DAT AIN'T RIGHT. AINT NO GAY VIKING PUTTIN HIS LOLLIES IN MY SUCKAS YOU UNDERSTAND DAT SHIT?

Ulfric: No you fucking biatches! I said You better turn your frowns upside down before I...check you for ticks. It's tick season.

Whiterun: Oh thank god, for a second there I thought you said you wanted to forcibly insert your dick into our fat lips.

Ulfric: You can't prove it honey!

Whiterun: I guess you are correct, high king.

Ulfric: Oh your damn right I'm high you nasty nasty viking-boy! High on all the musk of Nord heroes and their sweaty bods! God I love all of you! Except for you, Lailia. And you Elisif. You look like a fucking woodland elf with your fucking little whorebag ears. Get a fucking nose job you fucking whores!

Whiterun: ANYWAY, back to the threat looming over the entire universe as we know it.

There is a wizard, out there, somewhere, with a great and horrible power. We know him as Lord Yriad.

[Everyone collectively gasps, Ulfric dramatically faints]

Redguard Ambassador: YO DAWG DAT AIN'T RIGHT. AINT NO HOITY TOITY VIKING GUNNA SAY THAT MOTHERFUCKING FORBIDDEN NAME ON MY FUCKING WATCH.

Whiterun: But why, why fear simple name? Why fear a mere name-

Solitude: You weren't there at the Battle of Cheddar. You don't know shit about what it was like to live through something as horrible as that. You don't know SHIT! I lost my three sisters and to this day I can't help but shudder and shart when I see goat-cheese.

Whiterun: I am sorry, I know that the memories are all painfully real in our memories. Never-the-less we cannot skirt around the truth any longer.

Winterhold: Well then get on with it then. By admitting that you're skirting around the truth, you skirt around it even more by admitting that you were skirting around it in the first place.

Whiterun: You're logic is faulty. It would be impossible to skirt around the truth by admitting I was skirting around the truth by simply admitting-

Ulfric [awakens] SHUT YOUR PRETTY LITTLE FACES YOU FUCKING GORGEOUS ASSHOLES! I want to hear the rest of Mr. Viking's story!

Whiterun: Right, sorry. Well, It has become apparent that the Dark Lord, Lord Yraid, has risen once again.

[Ulfric faints again, everyone starts screaming about how they have families and other stupid shit]

And his plans are worse before-

[Redguard Ambassador curls into a fetal position and hums Amazing Grace, everyone breaks shit and screams, and one who will remain unnamed *cough Winterhold cough* even shits himself]

He plans to summon 450 Trillion Cheese Wedges from the Throat of the World, effectively drowning Skyrim, and possibly the universe, in evil stampeding balls of deadly cheese!

Riften: OH FUCK THERES NOTHING LEFT TO BREAK

Winterhold: WHADDU WE DO WHADDU WE DO-

Falkreath: I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A STRIPPER-

Whiterun: CALM DOWN YOU FOOLS! There is hope.

[everyone (except for Ulfric because he's a pussy and still passed out in his own vomit]: There is?

Whiterun: Yes. A prophecy written long ago foretold of a certain individual who would be really good at being a hero and shit and who could take down some dark wizard who fucking summons a shitload of cheese. I mean how hard is to kill someone who just summons cheese? We have like millions of heroes in Skyrim, we can just find some hobo and give him a sword in exchange for half eaten peanuts-

[Mystery man emerges from the darkness in the back of the room]: I know who is foretold.

Whiterun: Who are you?

Man: One of those bearded shits who teach people how to yell in dragons faces and watch them explode or something.

Whiterun: Great Grey Beard, why have you graced us with your presence?

Greybeard: I know of the prophecy you speak of. It is written that the Dragon Born must kill Lord Yraid. And so it is told.

Whiterun: No fucking way am I entrusting the fate of the universe with that retard.

Greybeard: That 'retard' saved all of us from being eaten by dragons! That's intense shit.

Whiterun: SO THE FUCK CAN TALK TO DRAGONS, BIG FUCKING WHOOP, I DO THAT ALL THE TIME ON MUSHROOMS-

Greybeard- Whatever this is a fantasy world so you have to listen to the prophecy you fucking asshole. He may be a retard but he's all we got. Summon him immediately and we can begin training.


End file.
